


Carnaval de L’Amour

by XxTwistedEverAfterxX



Series: Carnival!AU: Red Velvet Pancakes & Veggie Burgers [1]
Category: 2P Hetalia - Fandom, Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-12
Updated: 2014-12-12
Packaged: 2018-03-01 04:21:23
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,872
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2759441
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/XxTwistedEverAfterxX/pseuds/XxTwistedEverAfterxX
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When a circus rolled into town, excitement was all abuzz, especially amongst the performers. It was a circus of the destined and gifted, where a magical spell was cast upon the audience members that came in pairs and granted them eternal love. For the newest brother duo performers, they could believe it. What they didn't expect, was for the magic to capture them too in the form of a golden set of twinkling twins.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Carnaval de L’Amour

**Author's Note:**

  * For [kirono](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=kirono), [Quintessentila (Woodbyne)](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Woodbyne/gifts).



> So I happened to see this lovely picture of a strongman!Matt and tightrope walker!Matthew AU brewed up by the gorgeous kirono and quintessentila, and I asked if it would be alright to write something for this, because gosh, it was too wonderful an idea, and I wanted to see if I could do it justice. I only had the picture to go off of, so what I wrote and what their full idea is could be quite different! I’m eager to see more of their true idea! Nonetheless, I hope that you enjoy my variant as well!! I might write a sequel for this; delving more into their history and maybe some Veggie Burgers expansion~ It was quite fun writing this! I hope you enjoy!! Smooch smooch!!

_“Momma! Momma! Look! I’m a magician! I can do a card trick, look, look!”  
  
_ _“Maman, maman! Look! I can balance and jump without hurting myself! Watch me, please!”  
  
_ Accordions sung to the crowds, merry and bright as children flocked with parents towards the bright tents of multicoloured stripes, pitched impossibly high and stretching towards the skies where stars twinkled like the glitter that sparkled on costumes under the firelight. The air was cool, refreshing, with not a cloud in sight to hide the full moon that cast a luminescent glow upon the caravans, cages, marquees, and the performers they housed.  
  
 _“Daddy… Why can’t I wear it? It’s pretty… I just wanna be pretty. Let me come out, daddy…”  
  
_ _“Papa… Arrêtes de nuire à Tommy… Je vais devenir très fort et tu ne sert jamais lui faire de mal.”  
  
_ The crash of cymbals echoed to the trees around them, whistles and cheers following as long legged men with far too large comical pants walked by on stilts, pursued by ladies with far too long skirts, impressing far more by doing it all so casually with their stilts on heels. The children were far more admirable of the additional height and thin heels of the ladies, applauding eagerly until their hands were aching and they were shown towards the main tent where the true show was about to begin. The painted smiles of the performers stretched their true ones to their ears as they handed out coloured balloons and sweeties to every little child that held out outstretched hands and cried out “please!”  
  
 _“Hey, Alfred, wouldn’t it be lovely if we joined maman and papa’s circus?”  
  
_ _“Tommy… I’ll protect you… because I’m going to be the strongest man in the world.”  
  
_ Grand posters lined the row of trees to the centre rink; painted pictures of obedient lions and trick performing elephants and dogs that walked only on their hind legs. Bearded ladies and men who could eat glass and those that could swallow swords while juggling fire were advertised as some of the leading acts. A sunshine magician who could summon a flock of pigeons from his sleeves; an acrobat who could walk on the thinnest of wires deathly high up above a pit of fire and jagged rocks; a giant brute of a strongman who could lift even a caravan up onto his shoulders; an escapist who could squeeze into any small space wrapped in chains and spring out minutes later dancing.  
  
Carnaval de L’Amour: the circus of the destined and gifted where a magical spell was cast upon the audience members that came in pairs and granted them eternal love, or so the rumours went. Every single couple to see a full show was then enraptured with a powerful enamoured energy that stayed with their souls and kept their romance blossoming until they grew old and wrinkled.  
  
It was guaranteed to be a fable, but it was good for business, and sweet little white lies like those could be left to circulate without qualms of hurting any.  
  
“Ladies and gentleman, boys and girls… Welcome to Carnaval de L’Amour,” the ringmaster crowed, his thickly accented voice echoing throughout the tent, pulling a hushed excitement among the patrons all seated in rows in an encompassing circle around the centre ring, “Tonight, prepare to be mystified… to be horrified… to be stupefied!”  
  
“Is he being dramatic out there?” Alfred asked softly, poking his nose through the curtain, only for it to be given a light smack by a gloved hand, withdrawing from peeking to twitch it.  
  
“As always,” Matthew snorted, keeping his voice down low as he withdrew his hand, “You know only Francis can get the crowd that pumped. Nobody else does a better job.”  
  
“I could,” Alfred huffed softly, only earning a roll of violet eyes from his twin and a soft curl of a smile the corner of his lips, “I’m much more energetic.”  
  
“There’s a difference between hyping up an audience and what you do,” Matthew teased, leaning away from the curtain separating back stage acts-in-waiting to the front arena, adjusting the puffiness of his brightly coloured jumpsuit, embroidered with contrasting colours of stars and tiny diamond glitter, so that it would sit better on his thighs which were clad with fishnet stockings, hiding the support straps around his ankles, the band being readjusted to sit more comfortably, “Leave Francis be.”  
  
“What exactly is  _wrong_  with how I get the audience excited?” Alfred complained, voice pitching in a whine, eyebrows sliding upwards as his lips curved down to form a pout on his visage. Matthew chuckled, reaching out to pinch the sun kissed cheeks, giving them a pull out before squishing them in, drawing a choked sound of protest from the American as they were rubbed like a child’s would be.  
  
“The way you do it is best for your act alone. If you did it for me, they’d be disappointed that I didn’t leap headfirst from up high and then disappear in a puff of smoke,” he pointed out.  
  
“I could make you?”  
  
“I’d rather not risk it.”  
  
“Are you saying you don’t  _trust_  my magic?” Alfred pressed, his tone offended, puffing out his chest so that his navy shirt speckled with bright golden stars caught more of the glittering candles lined to keep the space backstage lit for them, “It’s not like you weigh that much, anyway.”  
  
“Not all of us are as heavy set as you, darlin’ thunder thighs,” Tommy crooned, slinking in from the cracks between the wooden set, startling Alfred into a half-dive forward, clutching a hand on his chest over his heart, the action only making the darker skinned man snigger and wink, “How’s that, magic man? Am I good enough to be your show gal assistant yet?”  
  
“Not even close,” Alfred grumbled, straightening himself up, adjusting his top hat on his head with a sour expression, Matthew suppressing his grin at the way Alfred slunk back cautiously towards his seat in a bid to preserve his dignity, as though he hadn’t leapt for his lap in a bid scramble away. Granted, Tommy was sly, and able to squeeze his body even into the smallest of spaces, dead silent in his escape techniques, or in this case, his ability to appear, rather than disappear.  
  
“Breakin’ my heart, golden boy.”  
  
“Like I care,” Alfred huffed, his sun kissed cheeks darkening to the colour of rubies nevertheless at the constant flow of nicknames, only crossing his arms resentfully as Tommy plonked himself down at his side, wearing only his skin tight leotard.  
  
“Is your brother around? You both joined our circus at the same time, didn’t you?” Matthew asked conversationally, hoping to keep up a pleasant atmosphere, not wanting Francis to return to an unpleasant scene in the back. The last thing they needed on the night of a grand opening show was a magician and an escapist getting into a fight. Finding one and the other would prove a task near impossible.  
  
Tommy shrugged, a hand lifting to curl strands of reddish-brown hair around his finger, ruby eyes set only on Alfred, who was unappreciative of the attention at most.  
  
“He’s probably liftin’ weights, maybe chewin’ on a metal pipe or breakin’ sandstone blocks with his bare hands. He’s around, somewhere. A kid started starin’ at him outside so he probably got scared and tried to hide behind an elephant again,” Tommy dismissed with a snigger, letting go of the locks around his fingers to place both of his hands on his thighs, bracing himself to stretch his legs and arch his back, popping his bones in a series that made Alfred cringe in disgust, “He’s probably nervous about his debut performance.”  
  
“And you’re not?” Matthew questioned with a little quirk of his head, “You’re pretty confident, even though it’ll be your first time out there.”  
  
Tommy shrugged, letting his feet drop back to the rug laid out roughly to keep their feet from dragging in dirt, relaxing his body and taking on an easy posture as he winked at Matthew.  
  
“There ain’t nothin’ that scares me, doe eyes, so don’t go worryin’ yourself. I’ve been able to pull a fast one since I was little, so bein’ watched by a couple of hundred ain’t nothin’,” Tommy assured, “I’ve had tougher crowds I needed to hoodwink.”  
  
Fascinated, Matthew leaned in more, stretching his own legs, toes pointed as he bent over double so that his stomach touched his thighs easily, his chest on his knees while he encouraged the conversation with a curious prompting.  
  
“When did you first start practicing escapism, or gain an interest in learning how to escape from being chained up in a box? How old were you?”  
  
The American’s expression turned slightly bitter, the smile on his face tight lipped, adjusting his leotard self consciously, his rock hard muscles flexing, the dark ink of his tattoos shifting on his skin with every contraction, the ink almost appearing raised in sections, as though welted. Alfred glanced to his side at the uneasy silence, shifting in his seat on the wooden crate a little, eyeing up the escapist closely and the way he licked his lips, the metal of piercings beneath his bottom lip shifting with the way his tongue and teeth played with them, glistening in the candlelight.  
  
“It’s a long story, twinkle twins, ain’t nothin’ ya’ll wanna hear,” Tommy dismissed with a smile, eyes hooded and lazy, bottom lashes curled against his chocolate skinned cheeks, slinging a muscled and tattooed arm around Alfred, pulling him in close, despite the blond’s protests, “What about you two? What got ya into joinin’ the Freak Fest, huh?”  
  
“We’re  _not_  freaks,” Alfred grunted, shoving at Tommy’s chest, ducking out of the hold, losing his top hat in the process, hair splayed in awkward directions from the jostling movement, “We’re just really talented, that’s all.”  
  
Snatching back his hat, Alfred placed it decisively on his head, lips pursed in a frown, giving a nod as though he had won; a silent “that’s that”.  
  
“Okay, my bad, lemme rephrase it—what got ya’ll to join the circus?”  
  
“Our parents were actually in this very same circus before we were born. That’s how they met!” Matthew spoke up, hushing his voice as a round of applause echoed from beyond the curtains, reminding them that they were hosting guests that would hear their chatter if it got too loud backstage, “We were conceived and born in one of the caravans here. We’ve been travelling with the circus ever since. Maman’s retired and sews the costumes now, but she used to be one of the acrobats. Papa helps care for the animals and trains them—you should see what he can make the lion do!”  
  
“What about you and  _your_  brother? You two don’t exactly look related,” Alfred cut off, nudging his wooden crate towards Matthew and away from Tommy, “Given he’s pretty white and you’re obviously half—”  
  
“ _Alfred_ ,” Matthew hissed, violet eyes turning angry, another backhanded smack being administered, this time to Alfred’s chest, making a hollow  _thump_  sound as it did so.  
  
“What?!”  
  
“Don’t be rude.”  
  
“Nah, it—it ain’t rude,” Tommy assured softly, looking down at his arms, “I’m a half cast—and proud… Dunno of what race though, I never met my ma. The old man told a different story each time I asked. Either my ma was a coloured lady who ran for it once I popped out, or my ma was a white lady, which would make me some other man’s son. Dunno which version I prefer. Don’t stop me from rockin’ this nice skin, huh? Pretty jealous, aren’t you magic man?”  
  
“I’m— _no_ ,” Alfred sneered, blushing darker, crinkling his nose as he lifted his eyes to the low built ceiling where creaks of footsteps were passing overhead, scrambling to place himself on the other side of Matthew at Tommy’s insistent eyebrow waggles and lazy grin, showing off his missing tooth as his lips pulled back, “Why would I? I’m pretty happy with my colour thanks, even if your skin looks gorge—”  
  
“ _Gorgeous_ ~?” Tommy finished with a coo, leaning in happily even as Alfred clapped his hands over his mouth, face a bright red beneath.  
  
“Will you all  _keep it down_?”  
  
The addition of the fourth voice had the two bickering Americans silencing, Matthew jumping a little as Arthur yanked back the curtain, entering in from the main arena, allowing a brief flood of light and loud applause before it was yanked shut once more, gritting his teeth.  
  
“They’ll hear you in the stands—luckily I was able to keep them distracted,” Arthur hissed, pushing past them, “We’ve gone two acts and you lot haven’t shut up. Keep it down before Francis overhears, will you?”  
  
Giving an apologetic smile, Matthew turned to crane his head back towards the curtain, Francis’ voice echoing once more, working the audience up further for the next act.  
  
“That’s me coming up anyway,” Matthew whispered, raising a hand in a small wave to Tommy, smacking Alfred’s hand from his thigh as it was grasped in a vain attempt to keep him there as the separator, peeling it off and grasping at his outfit’s bells before they jingled and made too much of a noise, “Sorry. Have fun talking to my brother, eh?”  
  
Tommy smirked, hand flopping side to side in a wave as he stretched a leg across the space between him to where Alfred sat looking mortified and furious, contempt in the lines around his lips and bright blue eyes. Leaving them just as Tommy’s body sprung fluidly forward, as though his body was made of silk or the waves that rolled in the ocean, Matthew burst forth from the curtain with a bright smile, arms outstretched and waving, greeted with enthusiastic cheers and applause. The lights were far brighter out here than behind in the small darkened place allocated for actors that had approaching acts, and it took a few moments for Matthew’s eyes to adjust, crinkled with his smile and as he squinted to not be totally blinded. It would be a shame to smear his costume makeup of violet and white hues and dark liner about his eyes that gave them emphasise, and the extra blush on his cheeks to give him colour for the audience, rather than making him appear so ghostlike with his milky hued pallor.  
  
Off to the side from the corner of his eyes, he could see a shadow sliding back behind the large jagged rocks prepared to the side, the figure hunched over, broad and thick with muscles. Not having much time to look, Matthew merely bowed in, easily flipping forward onto his hands on a large ball, bowing once more in reverse with his legs, rotating himself to do so in each direction.  
  
For the first part, his act went by effortlessly and efficiently. He’d been practicing since he was little, leaping gracefully from bed post to bed post, from one chopped up stump of wood to another, gradually progressing before he was given his first thick tightrope to walk at the age of eight, not high up at all, supported between two trees. As the act progressed and he flipped between swinging bars and ropes that, with time, became thinner and thinner, the man that had been lurking by in the shadows made his appearance. The circus’ first ever strongman, and Matthew could believe it, perched up high on a thin pole in a pose and looking down on the near  _giant_ —he could see why he was called the most powerful man in the world. With his small slip on ballet style shoes, Matthew pointed his toes as he stood straighter, one leg rising in the air as he gave his own showy round of applause to encourage the newcomer along with the audience.  
  
Tommy had been right about one thing; the strongman—Matt—was definitely shy given his body posture, not so confident in his height or broad shoulders and chest. From up high, Matthew could see deep and dark scars carving over pronounced pectorals and around arms, each muscle defined clearly and he allowed himself to take in a shaky breath of appreciation. The man was gorgeous, from his broad shoulders and thick Trapezius muscles right down and over to his well built torso, his strong rippling back muscles and down to the V that dipped down into black pants that were being held tied up by rope. Long blond hair darker than Alfred’s lay messily over the wide shoulders, giving him a wild look, and with his stern expression, he looked as threatening as could be.  
  
Starting with smaller rocks, Matt began to move them one by one beneath the tightrope, and Matthew took it as his queue to begin. Easily, he placed his foot flat against the thin wire, balancing himself and thrusting his arms out at his sides, and began to walk. Rock by rock was laid beneath him, and he continued to trace the path ever so slowly. Jagged edges pointed up at him from below, and he watched his feet as intently as he was watching the flex of biceps and triceps underneath him, ogling the sheer power beneath creamy scarred skin.  
  
There was a twitch beneath his feet, and Matthew’s smile echoed that motion as the wire dipped ever so slightly, violet eyes blinking rapidly in confusion, his heartbeat picking up as the scent of smoke began to curl upwards, having reached the half way point of the wire. The fire had been lit below, old grass not even the animals would eat stuffed between jagged rocks now crackling with embers that began to spread rapidly beneath him. Something was wrong though. One of the ends of the wire hadn’t been secured properly or safely.  
  
Another jerk and Matthew was looking straight ahead, trying to calculate the distance between where he was now, and the pole where safety lay.  _Too far_. What were his next best options? Daring to glance down, he caught sight of glowing marigold licking the rocks, Matt standing nearby with large buckets of water to douse the flames once he reached the other side. Matthew knew already he wouldn’t make it before the string snapped or came loose, but there was no way to communicate his fears without terrifying, and consequently traumatising, the audience, yet now it seemed like it was almost inevitable.  
  
“Ah—”  
  
Choking off his sound of surprise as the wire dipped violently down, he forced his show smile to remain, arms out and keeping balanced, and though he had tried not to let his voice be heard, it had projected loud enough that Matt had glanced up, frown deep on his face, easing the buckets of water back down to the dirt ground, bare feet bracing themselves as his shoulders tensed. He’d heard, and was ready. It was then that Matthew’s idea sprung. It was last minute improvisation and relied on sheer dumb luck and hope, but it had to do.  
  
As best as he could, he twisted his body, leaping from the wire, causing it to snap as his shoes left it, launching himself briefly into the air, before he began his descent.  
  
The air whirred past him, pushing his fair blond caramel tipped curls back, the arch of his body resembling a swan’s glide as his bells jingled and whistled as he fell, hands outstretched forward. If he was to die, he had to make it look like part of the act; the children in the audience were his biggest concern.  
  
Death wasn’t on his agenda though, and thankfully, it seemed that Matt had caught on to his plan and had run forward, legs powering him to the edge of rocks and flames which he still managed to outdo in height, one broad arm reaching up and out. The moment he was in range, Matthew caught onto Matt’s forearm, hairy and tense, gripping firmly as he swung his curled up body down, under and then up again once before he landed on the strongman’s shoulder and bicep, the man’s forearm coming up to allow Matthew’s feet to rest against the back of his hand, dainty and finite, as though it had all been planned.  
  
An eruption of applause and cheers echoed in the tent, and Matthew laughed merrily, waving his hands energetically, arms spread wide, proud as much as he was relieved.  
  
“Thank you,” Matthew whispered through his teeth and grin, violet eyes glancing down at the still stunned man, watching the dark blush spread across his cheeks, his face right by his thighs, “It was a flimsy wire; that normally doesn’t happen.”  
  
Lowering his arm so that one hand could rest on the junction of Matt’s shoulder and neck muscle, and the other on his bicep to balance himself, Matthew smiled, crossing his ankles quite happily over each other, his fishnet stockings accentuating his own muscles in his thighs and calves, flexing his feet to play with the slip on shoes. Refusing to meet his gaze, Matt grunted, giving a single nod, though he remained tense as he walked away from the rocks and flames behind them.  
  
“Just…”  
  
Matthew cocked his head, smiling sweetly as he studied the blushing strongman, the way tired lavender eyes refused to meet his gaze, or any of the audience’s either. Deep shadows darkened beneath his eyes, as though he hadn’t slept well or for long, with little scars were so much more visible up close, along with thick, light brown stubble along his chin, jaw, and cheeks. If Matthew could have been given an opportunity to describe him, it would have been as ruggedly handsome.  
  
“Please be more careful next time,” Matt finished, swallowing thickly, lips set in a fine line, expression flustered, face glowing as bright as the flames around them, and the blaze kindling mysterious and new inside of their own chests. The beat of the applause was drowned by the pounding of their hearts, spotlight shining on them and them alone, and Matthew’s lips curled into a soft and sweet smile at the genuine concern thick in Matt’s voice, rather than anger or irritation at having a human thrust at him without warning, and being used as a pole and balance beam.  
  
“Thank you,” Matthew repeated softly, fingers grazing the edges of thick and coarse hair, brushing it aside to be able to look at his face properly, “Thank you, Matt. It was very nice of you to catch me like you did.”  
  
“You fell for me,” Matt explained awkwardly, his accent thick on his tongue, making Matthew quite aware that English probably wasn’t his first language, “It would be dangerous if I was not there for you.”  
  
“Yeah… I definitely fell for you,” Matthew breathed, allowing himself to be lifted up by the waist and placed back on his two feet on the ground gracefully, smiling up at his saviour who towered over him; a gentle flustered giant. Smiling up at him, Matthew tucked some fair blond curls behind his ear, studying his rescuer, amused at his little vocabulary slip up.  
  
“Isn’t it funny how fate works that way, eh?”


End file.
